


Easy Targets

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Archery, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Valinor boyfriends shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros watches Fingon practice his archery, one hot summer's day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy Targets

“Admiring my… aim, Maitimo?”

“Amongst other things. Now go and hit that last target, don’t let me distract you… if you _can_ hit it, that is.”

The final arrow hit the woven straw target right in the centre with a low _thunk_ , and Findekáno, smiling with quiet pride, turned his horse around and rode back up the length of the practice range, collecting his arrows one by one until he came to the stand at the end. It was empty now but for one person, his long legs propped up on the wooden bench as he stretched luxuriantly. 

“And you doubted me” said Findekáno, shaking his head as he drew his horse to a halt and dismounted with a flourish, his booted feet landing surely on the compact sand. 

“Never for a moment, I assure you.”

It was the sort of summer afternoon hot enough to make the air ripple about them, seeming to shimmer with heat, and his cousin - Findekáno noted with approval now that he got a proper look at him - had shed his heavy, formal court robes from the morning’s council. Maitimo now wore nothing but his breeches and a pair of light, wicker-soled shoes, a broad-brimmed hat of woven straw shading the freckled skin of his face and shoulders from the full light of Laurelin, lest it burn his skin.

Maitimo must have been watching him for a while, thought Findekáno as he unlaced his own brightly-dyed jerkin of embossed leather, unbuckled his arm guards, and laid both over his saddle, then peeled off the now rather sweat stained linen shirt beneath. Finally he shook out his hair, pulling away the bright ribbon that held his multitude of braids in a loose bunch at the top of his head. 

He smiled sidelong, right back at Maitimo’s gaze, which had apparently been fixed on the bare skin of Findekáno’s back and the thick fall of black and gold braids glinting in the Treelight. 

Findekáno always enjoyed the reaction he could unfailingly elicit from his cousin, he had to admit.

Maitimo’s face twitched, his mouth opening slightly, before twisting into an attempted frown of disapproval as Maitimo raised himself up, hunching forward on his bench so his hat hid his face, though not before Findekáno had seen his blush. 

“Ah, don’t get all embarrassed now, Maitimo. I know you didn’t just accidentally happen to find your way to the archery range on your way home.” 

Maitimo glanced at him from under the hat. “Why, Finno, I’ve no idea what you’re suggesting. What if I had wanted to practice myself, hmm?”

“ _Really?_ You’ve never shown any interest in archery before…  besides, everyone was under the impression that your speciality is the sword.” He resisted the temptation to do more than quirk up a single eyebrow at that. “Admit it. I know what’s going on. The tall, beautiful, eloquent and universally-exalted prince of the house of Fëanáro goes out of his way to gawp at his cousin shooting at targets on hot summer afternoons.”

Maitimo huffed, smiling ruefully. “Well, perhaps I did come here to observe your… aim…” said Maitimo, his eyes glittering in amusement. He feigned a slight pout, gesturing futilely. “It’s hardly my fault you distracted me with your… everything else.”

“Ha! Well, count it as payback for all the times you distracted me at much less opportune moments, and no more than you deserve.” Findekáno turned resolutely away from Maitimo, feeding his horse an apple from his belt pouch. Then he drew back and stretched exaggeratedly once more, tipping his head backwards and letting his braids cascade down his back once more, right in his cousin’s line of vision. He didn’t even need to see Maitimo’s reaction to delight in it. 

He turned back to see Maitimo looking somewhat pained. 

“Must you be like this, Fin? It’s quite distracting you know, and very unfair.”

“You’re an easy target.”

Maitimo raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? I would have thought Tirion’s beloved famously skilled archer prince of the house of Ñolofinwë would not bother with the easy targets.”

Findekáno grinned. “Oh, I didn’t know you felt that way Maitimo, my apologies. I’ll go _target_ someone else, as you so beautifully put it.”

He even made to start walking away, his bow over his shoulder and face turned aside to hide his grin as Maitimo let out an exasperated sigh, calling him back just as Findekáno had expected. 

“Fin… the way you are sometimes, I swear…”

“Besides” continued Findekáno, smiling sweetly as though nothing had happened, “don’t think you’ve escaped my vengeance for that time I walked straight into poor Calanwë while he was carrying that tray of finest Formenosian crystal glassware. I think he’s barely stopped trembling since.”

“That was in no way my fault, Findekáno. Your own clumsiness is entirely to blame I’m afraid. I take no responsibility.”

“That’s a lot of denial, Maitimo. And it’s a wonder I didn’t cause an even larger scene, given how you showed up. Or do you not recall the part where you simply waltzed in through the west serving stair, wearing nothing but a scanty loincloth and a lick of almond oil - ”

“I was returning from the bath-house, chasing after the little red-haired brats who stole my clothes, thank you very much. And here I was thinking that stair would be the _least_ conspicuous way - ”

“Excuses, excuses. It’s still practically indecent of you, especially with your hair pinned up as it was then, to add insult to injury!” Findekáno threw up his hands in despair. “Honestly Maitimo, that was a low blow…” his face twitched into a smile as he caught Maitimo’s tongue caught between his teeth “…and not even the kind I wanted. Shocking and inexcusable, honestly.”

Maitimo got to his feet and gave an elegant courtly bow. “Well, what can I say. I apologise from the bottom of my heart for any injustice done to you, honourable Prince Finno. I shall endeavour in the future to repay my debt, et cetera et cetera…” his smile grew scheming, as he leaned forward over the stand railing, elbow leaning against the rail so his elegant forearms were draped over it, his hair falling down in copper waves from under the hat, “… in any way you see fit.”

“You…” Findekáno could hardly bear it any longer. He lifted his hands, and was beginning to twist them in Maitimo’s hair, pulling his head down to meet his own, when Maitimo drew back, a maddening smile playing about his lips.

Findekáno groaned. “That face you make… it shouldn’t be allowed.”

“You’re an easy target.”

“You’re a shameless seducer. Don’t do this to me.”

“Excuse me, _who’s_ a shameless seducer now?” asked Maitimo, shrugging and pulling his hat down demurely over his head once more. “I’m just defending your poor horse from being scandalised by his master’s behaviour with his cousin.”

“Tavaron has already seen too much of his master’s scandalous behaviour” said Findekáno solemnly, giving the horse an affection pat on the flank. He gave a slight smile. “It’s just as well you can’t talk, isn’t it Tavaron? All things considered.”

Maitimo was smiling affectionately. “Findekáno, for Valar’s sake take your long-suffering steed to the stables. I’ll meet you outside in fifteen minutes.”

Findekáno cocked an eyebrow, his eyes lighting up. “Behind the stand as usual?”

“Oh, are we going to make that a _usual_ thing now? The stands are so dusty, and anyone could just…”

“Alright, alright, well how about the bathhouse? It’s plausible enough for me to go there after practice.” Findekáno gazed at Maitimo under his lashes, balancing his bow on one bared shoulder and slinging his stripped off shirt over the other. “If it’s your foolish conscience that’s bothering you again, you can always think of it as payback for that other time.” He smiled. “Besides, the water will be a relief in this heat, for both of us… trust me.”

Maitimo gave him a long look. Then he burst out laughing. “Damn you Fin, you’re quite as good at persuasion as you are at shooting things. Done.”

Findekáno let out an entirely too loud shout of triumph and tugged at the rein, hurrying off to the stables and leaving Maitimo to watch the cloud of dust settle, a smile on his face. 


End file.
